An Oath
by Radar1388
Summary: I took the Oath and, needless to say, I wasn't living up to expectations. Not only was I without believers, but my powers hurt people. Can't people see that I'm not cut out to be a Guardian? Rated for a bit of blood, very mild swearing, and mentions of child abuse. Alternate Universe.


_* My fellow fanfictioners, this has been festering in my head for several months now. Many of you understand what I am going through. Expect this to be dark, angsty, and expect a nice bit of blood, too._

**_I don't own "Rise of the Guardians"._**

_I referenced the "Guardians of Childhood" book series.** I don't own the "Guardians of Childhood".**_

An Oath

I was desperate. All I wanted was my memories back and – lo and behold! – Tooth had them. Had I known this, I wouldn't have wasted precious time by continuously breaking into North's workshop. The answers were right there, in the Tooth Palace! All I had to do was go there and…

But there's a catch. The 'big four' agreed to show me my baby teeth under the condition that I fulfill Manny's request at my becoming a Guardian as well. Any message from Manny was almost a deity-sent prophecy in their eyes. I was this close to refusing. I didn't do hard work; I didn't do deadlines. No, I was carefree and wild as the wind, that of which I rode everywhere I went. Nothing to hold me back and certainly no schedules. Snow days were meant to be unexpected, right?

I remained on the fence, though. I could always break into Punjam Hy Loo, steal the teeth with relative ease and be on my merry way. However, I wasn't one for strife or struggle. And here were my memories, lying in wait on a silver platter for me. All I had to do was agree to their terms, reach out and-

I took the Oath and, needless to say, I wasn't living up to expectations.

I wandered as I always did, going from town to snow-needy town, leaving snowball fights and snow days in my wake. After taking the Oath, the joyful laughter of children rang louder in my ears, almost a hum-worthy tune as I grinned along with their happiness. So, I didn't have believers; I was still doing my job, at first.

With a decent chunk of my memory restored, so was a newfound energy that just so happened to feed into my powers. Snow and ice were more frequent. Thankfully, this led to less people falling through ice and more people enjoying the thrill of ice skating and fishing. However, accidents increased. More and more people, kids mostly, ended up in the hospital due to car wrecks and broken limbs. Black ice was the biggest complaint, but it wasn't controllable on my part, I swear! I always produced it by accident during my more emotional moments. Every time humans complained about black ice it made my self-esteem _so_ much better, as you can imagine.

Kids were getting hurt…because of me…a Guardian… Why do I even bother?

* * *

I let the wind carry my gleeful laugh as I soared over Burgess, bringing about the last snowfall of the season. Flurries from the clouds and my feet peppered over the small town. Regardless of the energy I had just used in playing with children out at my lake, I was always filled with a kind of fast yet tamable adrenaline that demanded to be satiated somehow. I was almost always in control of my emotions.

With a nimble run, I landed on top of a brick building, the tallest in the area, to get a better look at my handy work. I dropped into a crouch and sighed, eyes blissfully slipping closed as my home became engulfed in a snowy, midnight wonderland. I think I heard the happy clatter of a snow day coming on, too. Oh, there was a clattering. It became prominent and soon rose to a loud, obnoxious volume.

With a semi-irritated groan, I stood and walked towards the fire escape that led down to the adjacent alley. My eyebrows slowly came together as I stared down at the pavement. A scruffy and unkempt middle aged adult stood right in front of a wall in the alley as if he was a child who was just told to stand in a corner.

I squinted. The human stood out of reach of the ray coming from the single street lamp. I couldn't see him very well, the shadows kept him hidden, but his foot that continuously swung forward and back was too evident. The toe of his boot kept slamming against the trashcan as if there was a target painted on the middle.

_Adults,_ I rolled my eyes. This is why I liked children more. Any kid, possibly regardless of age, could see just how pointless the man's actions were. I mean, what was the point in doing that?

My thoughts, always bright and light-hearted, fell from my mind as the man stepped away from the wall and under the streetlamp. His leather boots and hands were stained with crimson that drizzled with malicious splashes to the pavement. My confused gaze slipped away to the corner where he just stood. For a moment, I couldn't see, but as the clouds detangled themselves, the light from the moon shined dimly through my town, illuminating the shadows of the alley. And my heart fell to my stomach with a sickening hurtle.

The man stepped closer, returning to the wall and staining his hands on his already filthy jeans. I pulled my staff into a death grip, entire body shaking as I bent my legs to lunge at the most horrid creature I'd ever seen. The man stopped near the wall, swung his leg back, and brought it swiftly against the corner again. The quiet combination of what sounded like the mew of a kitten and the whimper of a lost puppy rang heavily in my ears, haunting my every thought.

A red-hot arrow of undeniable rage shot through my chest, constricting my heart and lungs until the only relief that existed was a scream of downright fury! Not thinking, blinded by anger, I launched myself from the building, rocketing into the alley with my staff raised at the monster.

A powerful gust had the man staggering backwards, allowing me to land directly between him and his prey. Wrought about by freezing wind, the man brought up his meaty hands to wipe involuntary cold tears from his face. _You have the nerve to cry?_ I wanted to shout at him, but knew he would never hear me.

The man shook his head irately and stared through me, behind me at his target. With a short grumble, the man reached down, grabbed a blood-stained shard of glass and shuffled forward by an inch. _One step too many!_

Howling furiously until I couldn't feel my throat, I flung my staff at the air. A blinding shock of jagged frost and ice blasted from the hook and rammed into the human's chest. He landed with a cracking thud against the brick of the wall, sliding heavily back to the ground. _Direct hit,_ I smirked darkly.

The man staggered dizzily to his feet, holding his greasy head and moaning pathetically in pain. He muttered incoherently under his breath and I braced myself when his attention turned back to my edge of the alley. With a glare and another shake of the head, the man took a swig from a discarded beer bottle, and stumbled drunkenly out of the alley.

The grinding of my teeth and the patterns of sharp agitated frost spanning from my feet ceased. The air was no longer threatening, but still felt smothered and tense. As I turned around, well, there was the reason why.

Trapped in the corner next to the trashcans – hair, clothes, and exposed patches of skin completely matted in blood – was a young boy shaking pitifully against the crumbling wall of the alley. The child looked hardly ten, perhaps just leaving his toddler years. My eyes swept over his form. His trembles, albeit painful to look at, meant he was breathing, meant he was alive. As if to prove a point, the young boy's eyelids shot open, revealing brilliant, chocolate orbs to stare directly into my blue ones. Regardless of the terror and dread etched into his features, I sighed in pure relief.

Carefully placing my staff on the cement, I crouched a few feet in front of him, dipping my head in a submissive, less threatening gesture. I saw the tears slide thinly down his face, as if he was running out of them. I let the balls of my feet shift forward by half a centimeter. Eyes slamming shut and huddling closer to the wall, the boy released a sharp, stab-to-the-heart whimper of pure terror.

"No, no, no," I said gently, but hastily. "It's okay, little one." I immediately flew back an entire two feet, exposing the palms of my hands in the process. "I'm not going to hurt you."

A visible lump formed in the kid's throat before he swallowed it down. Then, he turned his head in my direction, and opened his eyes.

"See," I grinned kindly. "I won't…" My eyes locked with his terrified gaze. "Can-" I gave a shaky laugh. "Can you-can you hear me?"

The child's gaze didn't waver from my own, aside from a single, resolute blink. But even that action looked painful for him, let alone him talking. Either way, I didn't expect him to give words.

"Can you…" I gulped roughly, resisting the urge to lean forward. "Can you see me?" Tiny drops of blood – _his_ blood – splattered to the ground as his nodded.

He nodded. _He…he…!_

At that point I didn't care how my body reacted. Mechanically slumping out of my iconic crouch and onto my rear, my volition and world vanished.

"You can _see_ me…!" I breathed redundantly, staring distantly at absolutely nothing. Years, three-hundred_ freaking _years had gone by and no one ever saw me, saw that the famous Jack Frost was right in front of their cold-bitten noses. The breath of fresh air I so desperately needed came and went in short, exhilarating gasps. There was no way this was real-I had to be dreaming. _Sandman, you cur!_

The clumsy _wham_ of a toppling trash bin shattered my reverie. A small figure captured my peripheral vision. Glancing to the side, I saw the little boy crawling, desperately scrambling to get out of the alley and away from whoever that wayward, white-haired, barefoot teenager was. I owlishly watched as the kid stood to run before collapsing awkwardly onto his side a few more feet away. With a hopeless whine, he curled up and pressed his back to the wall once more.

Every cell in my body yelled at me to run, scoop the kid in my arms, and bring him to safety, but this was delicate, both the situation and the kid. He'd never let me touch him, let alone hold him. Even if did I manage to get a hold of him, his struggling would result in worsening his injuries. Ignoring the daunting, slow drip of his blood, I had to be stable. The more measured my handling of him was, the easier this would be.

While he distracted himself with a sigh, I shifted forward a few inches, and as soon as he looked up I stopped. Cheek pressed against the chill of the ground, he brought his knees further to his chest, and I kid you not when I say I heard his bones and muscles creak, similar to that of a rusted door hinge. What threw me was that even though he was suffering in obvious pain and slowly losing blood, he managed to stay wide-awake, enough to study my movements closely.

Every gesture, every raise of the eyebrow never went unnoticed by him unless he turned away to take another breath. In those moments, I would move myself closer, inch by inch, until we were a little more than five feet from each other. Then, his eyebrows came together and I thought he was going to bolt again. Instead, he curled himself further before he cried out sharply and pressed his back further against the jagged wall. Innocent face twisted in pain was the only emotion he seemed able to express. It tore at me, seeing something so small and vulnerable at the unmerciful hand of that _horrid_ monster!

"Look," I gently expressed my burning question, trying to brush away my quivering anger. "I don't know how you can see me… and I don't think I should question it, but don't worry." I paused as the boy's large eyes reopened. "That man will never harm you again. Not as long as I'm still breathing."

The wind blew around us as it worked to brush a few strands of the child's bloodied hair. I could tell it was trying to work as a feeble icepack against the little guy's forehead.

A thought struck me, causing me to clear my throat and sit straighter. "My name," I politely introduced. "Is Jack Frost." I waited for him to acknowledge that statement, but all he did was continue staring at me, slowly blinking. "Can you-" I paused, the prefix of the sentence still sharp on my tongue. "Can you tell me your name?"

My anticipation grew when he opened his mouth, but then it abruptly closed, jaw scraping audibly against the pavement. My hopes rose again when he tilted his head up, lips parting only to snap shut again. His thin eyebrows came together, brown orbs straying to the ground while submerging himself in his thoughts. I could tell he wanted to speak, but…

Didn't he know his own name? I blew snowy bangs from my face, inching ever closer to his huddled form. "How about," I tried in an attempt to jog his memory. "Andy." He looked at me, but didn't blink. "Lucas?" I attempted with a wave of the hand. "Nicky? Alex? Ricky?" I scratched at my temple. "James?"

None of the names helped him. He still seemed confused and unsure. Well, I couldn't just keep calling him 'kid' or 'boy', that'd almost be belittling.

"How about," I said after I noticed his demeanor changing after calling him 'James'. "What about Jamie?" The child's scrunched nose relaxed as he stared fixedly at me. "Well, Jamie," I grinned kindly, glancing briefly at the shard of glass the man had dropped. "As Jack Frost, I can do all sorts of stuff." I pinched the edge of the shard. "Do you want to see a magic trick?"

Jamie's eyes widened by several sizes and he immediately whimpered fearfully as I brought the hunk of glass at eye level. In earning his trust, I would have to show him my motives were far different from that man's.

Smiling gently and saying his name to get his attention, I gripped the glass. Strands of ice spouted from my fingertips, washing away the blood and coating its surface with a thin, beautiful sheet of frost. Jamie blinked rapidly, majority of his fear replaced with curiosity. I chuckled softly and ran my fingers over the glass. In mock-celebration of the coming Easter, I drew a rushed picture of a tiny bunny rabbit – Bunnymund was never going to let me hear the end of this one – and without waiting for the kid's reaction, I twitched my fingers to bring the animal to life.

Its spirit wasn't jumpy and energetic as a rabbit should be. Instead, the rabbit hopped lightly through the air, jumping in front of Jamie and sniffing the child's nose. I expected him to smile, giggle, but that was wishful thinking. The kid remained unwavering and motionless, but his curiosity never left him, not once. With his attention focused on the rabbit, I slid closer to him until we were within less than five feet of each other. That's when Jamie snapped his gaze in my direction, the frost-rabbit vanishing in a small puff of a snow.

I cringed inwardly as Jamie finally took notice of our close proximity. There was speculation in his eyes and I expected him to make a break for it. However, he just sat there staring at me. I chewed my lower lip as the child slowly brought his fists nervously against his chest. Thinking quickly, I noiselessly placed the glass shard on the ground, undisturbed side up, and pushed it towards Jamie.

"Draw anything," I coaxed, putting my hands casually on my knees. "Go ahead. You're probably a better artist than me." I grinned with a clever twinkle in my eyes.

He looked from me to the shard, before pulling the glass closer. I winced when more drops of blood dripped from his hand as he ran a finger against the glass. I didn't move closer as he drew. I was _this close_ to earning his trust and my instincts weren't going to ruin it. Giving a doubtful glance, Jamie shoved the glass back to me. My smile brightened; he had drawn a standard snowflake with the most simplest of lines.

Not thinking of my movements, I stood. "Your wish," I said with an expert bow. "My command." Not needing to use my staff for this, I willed the snowfall to lighten up, but with more abundance in flakes. More snow drizzled serenely over my face, calming my senses, but only mine.

A sharp gasp of pain forced my eyes open. I lunged forward, placing a pale hand on the writhing boy's upper arm. Jamie's body spasmed, almost seizing as his crossed arms tightened around his belly. When I realized I was touching him, I made to tear my hand from him, but when his gaze shot open to meet mine, I didn't pull back. Trembling chocolate eyes stared pleadingly at me. Whether he was silently begging for help or to not hurt him, I wasn't sure. Either or, he wasn't pulling away.

I rubbed his bony shoulder and did something that couldn't have come soon enough. I brought my hands to the pavement, pushed beneath the crimson puddle forming under his side, and smoothly scooped the child into my arms. I stood stock-still, waiting for the struggle, waiting for the crying. But the only thing Jamie did was utter a surprised gasp.

I didn't want to look at him, positive that he must be terrified of me, of what I just did. I looked over the helpless child in my arms and when I finally got to his face, he was staring away in the other direction, but there wasn't a trace of fear on him.

I chuckled at how relieved I was. "I can do more than just draw you know," I said. "Tell me, little one. Have you ever gone flying before?"

* * *

I could feel the jagged thump of Jamie's heart as we flew over cities and countrysides. And I realized I made the smart move by not using a snow globe. True, I had to go through the trouble of pulling a foul-smelling trench coat from a dumpster to shield the kid from the harsh cold, but using a snow globe wouldn't have helped either.

Opening that kind of portal was volatile. Some days you could jump right in it and have no problem. Other days you leaped into a swirling whirlpool that gave you the worst migraine you could ever ask for. Given Jamie's startling fear, he was already on the verge of an impending heart attack and shoving him into a churning wormhole wasn't going to help matters.

With an inward sigh, I landed at the top of the Scotia Plaza in Toronto, Canada, bringing a light snowfall with me. I had to land constantly. The further up we were, the colder it was. Jamie's skin was already frostbitten from sitting in that dreadful alley too long. He needed warmth, but he needed to feel protected even more.

I felt a short tug and looked down to see the kid immediately retract a hand to his chest. He had been playing with one of the drawstrings of my jumper. The child looked away guiltily, shyly wringing his wrists and ready to be reprimanded. I chuckled. With practiced ease, I blew a puff of air at the other drawstring, making it pinwheel until I could catch it between my teeth. I spat it out and my smile broadened when the corners of Jamie's lips twitched. He did nothing else but take back the drawstring to fidget some more.

I chuckled sarcastically at myself. One day I was soaring wildly in the clouds with no weight of responsibility on my shoulders. Yet there I sat, slowly rocking this child, instinctually taking care of him as if I'd been doing it all along. I smiled fondly at the vague memory of my little sister. Come to think of it, she and Jamie looked oddly similar.

The feeling of hot, thick liquid seeping into the belly of my hoodie shook my thoughts. Jamie's eyes were becoming half lidded, telling me that I couldn't waste time. Muttering to him to hold on, I didn't bother standing up as I took off into the night sky. Kicking my feet against the air as if it were pool water, I made a beeline for the other end of the horizon, sinking us deeper into the night.

The only light that broke through my vision was dotted in the sea of snow and mountains, slowly multiplying in numbers until the familiar lights of North's workshop came into view. What compelled me to be a normal houseguest right then, I'll never know. But like a good neighbor I landed at the front door of the workshop and rapped my elbow against the yeti-sized wooden door.

A brief clattering sounded from inside before said creature suspiciously opened the door. Jamie, wide-awake again, clamped his eyes and ducked his face into my hoodie. The yeti looked at Jamie and me before sidestepping.

"Thank you," I breathed in exhaustion. The warmth of the foyer and the scent of fresh gingerbread surrounded me. I vaguely heard Jamie inhale, too. "Hey, Phil," I asked the yeti. "Do you think I could use the guest bedroom next to the bathroom?"

The yeti babbled, softening its language in the child's presence, and nodded.

I thanked him again. "Oh," I said quickly before we departed down separate hallways. "Do you think one of the yetis could make a set of pajamas for him?" I nodded to Jamie. "Softest material you can find, too," I said with a grin. "Don't you think we should pamper our guest?"

Grinning under his fur, Phil saluted and continued down the hall.

* * *

With a squeak, warm water poured into the ceramic, claw-foot tub. The tub was wider than most and the water here ran significantly slower at night. I sighed at its snail pace and turned back to Jamie. I discarded the smelly trench coat and my blood-stained hoodie into the laundry chute, revealing my white, colonial blouse. Any other day, I would've severely cared if a stain that large would ever come out of my beloved hoodie.

The bedraggled kid was sitting up, curled into an insecure ball on top of the toilet lid as he looked to the floor. His blood wasn't coming as quick as before, but still continued with a drip every now and then. I stared at the drying blood on his skin.

The line of my mouth tightened. I wanted to fly back to Burgess, find where this man lived and make his life a living hell. This kid, my first believer, was suffering from pain every minute and it wouldn't stop. If I ever saw that monster again, if he ever came within a ten mile raidus of _my_ Jamie…

"That man," I chose my words as delicately as possible. "Who was he to you?"

Jamie didn't look up, but instead unwrapped his legs and fisted his hands to chest – a nervous habit that he would carry into the future.

"Was he," I pursed my lips. "Family." Again, I got nothing from him. "Your father?"

Jamie suddenly blinked, looked at me, and to the floor again. With a sigh I rubbed my temples to control my emotions. I expected as much. I still can't remember what my father was like, but I sure as heck knew that no one should treat their kid like this. No one should treat _any_ kid like this. It was horrific, barbaric – and I needed to stop thinking about it. I wanted revenge; I craved to show that despicable human no mercy, just like he did with Jamie. But I had to keep my focus on the little one. Jumping out the window and taking off now wasn't going to repair the boy.

On a self-imposed dare, I walked closer until I could rest my forehead against Jamie's. "You're perfectly safe here," I whispered. "I won't let anyone hurt you." I closed my eyes, still expecting him to run away at the close contact. I felt his head move, nodding.

While the water rose, I asked Jamie more questions. I asked him if he had siblings, if he had a mother. He shook his head to all of them even when asked about grandparents. His only home, only place to go, was with his father.

After Phil had dropped off the clothes and even fresh, extra towels, I turned off the faucet. I didn't know what Jamie would be comfortable with, so I discarded all of his clothes aside from his underwear. After tossing the ruined clothes into the trash bin, I felt my fists clench at my sides

His ribs, ridged, prominent, and obviously broken in places, showed the majority of the damage. Bruises and cuts, both new, old, and infected, covered his entire body, all leading down to the long gash that rested over his dangerously malnourished belly. I wanted to vomit; never in my immortal life had I ever seen a kid in such a state.

Gulping silently, I tried to avoid the afflicted areas by grabbing under his arms and holding him over the tub. Only his foot submerged before he gasped harshly, scrawny arms and legs flinging around my torso. I had to grip the tub not to fall face-first into the water.

"What? Too hot?" I asked dipping my hand under the water. By now, I was able to distinguish between what kind of warm was perfect for humans, and what kind of warm was lethal. The tub's water certainly wasn't deadly; it could actually be a bit warmer.

Pressing my teeth against my lip, I lowered him back to the water. This time, he didn't struggle as the water level met just below his chin. I only let him go to slap a hand over my eyes. I realized a bit too late that I should've rinsed him off before putting him in. Now, he was literally sitting in a growing blood bath.

Over the next hour or two, I rotated between cleaning the blood off him and emptying the tub. It was a tedious process, and I was careful not to accidentally freeze the water. All the while, Jamie sat there, knees pressed uncomfortably to his chest, making it difficult to get to the wounds there. I instructed him to uncurl his legs with the incentive of it being easier on his ribcage. That wasn't a lie, even though I needed an excuse to get to the other cuts. After emptying the tub for the umpteenth time, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around Jamie, and lifted him. I placed him back on the toilet lid and used another towel to dry off his head, exposing vibrant hair that matched his eyes.

"Would you look at that?" I grinned, though statement dark. "I think I found a kid under all that blood! Wait," I said after Jamie coughed. "Was that a laugh?" Jamie scrunched his nose, but as usual didn't reply. "I think it was." I gently ran my fingertips against the intact areas of his sides. My grin widened as he squirmed a little, batting at my hands while half of his mouth twitched upward. My laugh echoed lightly through the bathroom as I put dryer clothes on him.

I didn't want to disturb the yetis who worked in the infirmary of the workshop. It was only hours after midnight and they'd all be asleep. I was just thankful that North taught me about emergency medical treatment. However, stitching and applying ointment to cuts, resetting bones, and cleaning away blood was something I never anticipated doing, especially to a child. I never thought I'd have it in me.

As I worked, Jamie's painful whimpers and yelps rang hellishly in my ears. I assumed he was going to try and run from me, try and keep as far away as possible. However, the only thing I got were his cries and tiny trembling hands clutching at my blouse for dear life. Every time I went to reset a bone his adorable, chocolate orbs stared intently at me, but I didn't see terror. Not anymore.

I saw warmth in them. For the first since I'd known him, there was _trust_. And that was enough for me to continue the treatments. As I went on, I told him about what I did. And I realized sardonically that snow days, one of the happiest things to get you out of school and stay home with your parents, never helped Jamie in the slightest. I soon told him the most important part of my job. That I was a Guardian. How it was my job to protect children. A little while later, he was completely bandaged with painkillers numbing his nerves.

Holding him close to my chest, I opened the sliding door into the guest bedroom only to be met with the strong smell of hot soup. Warm food generally didn't agree with me, but even I had to admit how mouth-watering the aroma was.

"You hungry, little one," I asked as I placed Jamie onto the bed.

Blissed at how soft the fur of the comforter felt, Jamie flopped to his side and shook his head. I stole another glance at his skinny waist. Actually, he may not _feel_ hungry at all. The sickening thought of him having to get used to starvation crossed my mind. Or perhaps he was just too tired. Maybe he'd want food in the morning.

"Alright," I muttered before grabbing my staff from the bedpost. I had hooked the staff through the back of my hoodie for our journey to get here. "Well," I grinned scooping him back up – I couldn't get enough of holding him – to pull back the blankets. I gently laid him back on the bed and tucked him in. "I have to go run a few things by Santa, the Easter Bunny, Sandman, and the Tooth Fairy. They're Guardians, too, you know," I added with a broader smile when his face childishly lit at the familiar names.

I ran a tender hand through my boy's hair and made for the door. A small thud stopped me. I turned around to see Jamie out of bed and crouched over the rug, clearly frazzled by the sudden fall. I went to him and placed him back on the bed, wrapping the covers around him again. I briefly heard North's voice outside the door, and I smiled at Jamie, reaching for the door handle. Another thud sounded as he fell back to the floor. This happened a third time before I realized he was trying to follow me.

"You need to stay here Jamie," I said gently, but slightly exasperated. For fear of any growing anxiety in the little boy, I didn't want the towering figures of my comrades looming over Jamie just yet. So, I placed him back on the bed, wrapped the covers tightly around him, gave his wounds another once-over and tried to remove Jamie's hold around my neck.

The noise was cracked, broken and shy. Whatever it sounded like before, it was now dry and mangled, but certainly not emotionless, not like the previous stares he gave me. Regardless of how, it managed to sound soft, pleading, warm..._trusting_.

"Don't leave," the whisper nuzzled against my throat.

My breathing stopped. "Wha..." Then, I smiled.

Jamie let out a sweet little hum as I brought him back into my arms. Steering a slight draft to brush more blankets out of the way, I laid down and brought the thick covers around us. I shifted so that I was between my little one and the door, a barrier between him and anyone that'd dare come in and harm him. Jamie pressed the side of his face against my chest, tiny fists unfurling as he completely relaxed. We both sighed as grains of bright, gold sand materialized over the little boy's head. And for the first time in possibly ever, a tiny grin splayed over Jamie's features.

I didn't care where his father was, what he was doing, and what I would possibly do to him later. Jamie was safe, and he knew that now. North had told me time and time again that I was doing my job right, that it didn't matter how many people got hurt because of me. I spat at his words, told him I wasn't cut out for this job.

_"Don't leave." _Those words resonated even in my dreams, singing and calling to me as I dreamt of having snowball fights and sledding competitions with a certain brown-haired boy.

"Don't leave." I cracked an eye at the little voice. Even with the plea, golden snowflakes danced around my kid's head. I smiled contently and rested my chin atop his head.

"…Never." And I realized that I _was_ doing my job right.

* * *

_* I know that I made Jamie slightly younger than his movie-self. Also, I haven't written anything like this before, so I hope you enjoy it!_


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